Terrible Victory

by Mark Zuehlke

  The Lincs had ‘A’ and ‘D’ Companies forward. Their commanders both designated Left Out of Battle, the second-in-commands Captain W.H. Barkman and Captain R.F. Dickie led the men across the start line at 1900 hours. There was virtually no cover, just wide, flat fields through which the troops ducked and dodged in a frenzied effort to avoid the heavy artillery and mortar fire. A little over an hour later, however, they reached their objective immediately west of Welberg and started digging in. Both companies had suffered heavy casualties. During the night, an SPG pushed in and banged away at their lines incessantly until driven off by a self-propelled 17-pounder gun of the 5th Anti-Tank Regiment.40

  To the right, the Algonquins had attacked with three companies. ‘A’ and ‘B’ Companies had gone in line up a tree-lined road that led to the square, while ‘D’ Company put in a right hook along a dyke road to hit Welberg from the east. ‘C’ Company, standing in reserve, would then come up on the inside of ‘D’ Company to clear the village’s centre. Captain R.B. Stock commanded ‘A’ Company, Captain J.M. “Johnny” Jewell ‘B’, Captain A.R. Herbert ‘C’, and Major George Cassidy ‘D’.

  An earlier reconnaissance had indicated that the road was undefended, but instead ‘A’ Company–mustering just thirty-three men– immediately came under heavy small-arms fire.41 Things went from bad to worse when one of the MIO self-propelled guns mounting a 17-pounder of 5th Canadian Anti-Tank Regiment’s ‘B’ Troop, which was supporting the advance, was knocked out by grenades thrown into the turret and began to burn.42 At 2100 hours, Stock reported a second MIO destroyed “and the situation was very confused due to heavy shelling of their positions by enemy sps.” Stock soon appeared at battalion headquarters to personally report that some of his company, newly arrived reinforcements “lacking in battle experience had run away when the SPS opened fire.” He headed back to reorganize the company, promising to be ready to go again shortly.43

  Major Cassidy’s ‘D’ Company, meanwhile, had fared better. From the top of the dyke, Cassidy could see Welberg and Steenbergen both erupting “in red, angry flashes” as the artillery worked them over. The terrific noise and “milky haze of smoke” thickening the air covered his company’s approach until they were opened up on by a single machine gun about three hundred yards short of the village. Corporal Wes Callander and his lead section immediately hit the dirt, and replied with a volley of gunfire that killed the lone gunner with two bullets to the head.

  Within minutes, the company was in among the buildings. The company Bren carrier and MIOS of ‘C’ Troop under Lieutenant J.C. Hooke came forward, clustering in the narrow roadway. Suddenly a Panzerfaust round narrowly missed Hooke’s spg, struck a wheel-barrow loaded with turnips, ricocheted up into the air, and exploded harmlessly overhead. After this, the night passed with little further fighting, and ‘C’ Company came forward to gain control of the village centre. Out on the left flank, however, ‘A’ and ‘B’ Companies were heavily engaged and made little progress.

  With the dawn, the Germans counterattacked ‘D’ and ‘C’ Companies with infantry supported by an SPG and a tank. A well-planned affair, the Germans “sliced in between ‘D’s position and where ‘C’ Coy was working through the buildings on the north central part of the town.” The foremost infantry platoons were forced to take cover inside buildings, as the tank and SPG hammered away. Adding to the confusion were Dutch civilians, who, thinking Welberg liberated, poured out of cellars into the midst of the firefight. Cassidy and some other Algonquins frantically waved them back into their hiding places, then began trying to figure out how to drive the Germans off. Finally, despite the Germans being only one hundred yards from the closest Canadian platoons, an artillery concentration was brought to bear, and the streets soon boiled with smoke and flames.44

  While the shells were hammering down, ‘C’ Troop’s Lance Sergeant Hedley Arthur Honey had manoeuvred his MIO around to find an angle of fire on either the German SPG or tank, only to have it bottom out crossing a deep ditch. Dismounting, Honey went forward on foot and discovered the SPG was separated from his position only by a wooden barn. Returning to the MIO, Honey slammed a 17-pound shell through the barn to score a direct hit. As the SPG began burning, the tank retreated towards Steenbergen. Having lost their support, the infantry quickly followed on the run.45 Welberg was soon cleared, but when Honey poked his MIO out onto the road leading to Steenbergen, it was struck by a shot from a hidden SPG and the twenty-one-year-old from Dewberry, Alberta was killed. For his actions this day, he was Mentioned in Despatches, while a Military Cross was awarded to Lieutenant Hooke.46

  Having been driven out of Welberg, the Germans resorted to pounding it with highly accurate artillery. This hampered the Argylls forming up to assault Steenbergen, and also caused a number of Algonquin casualties, the worst being an entire section of Cassidy’s company all killed or wounded when a shell struck a building where they had gathered for a meal.47 Finally, at nightfall, the shelling unexpectedly and abruptly ceased.

  At 0500 hours on November 4, the Argylls attacked Steenbergen, and in less than an hour were inside the battered town. The reason for the cessation of artillery fire the night before became clear, as they met virtually no opposition. “During the night,” wrote the Argyll war diarist, “the Germans had evacuated the entire area between us and the water far to the north.”48 The regiment suffered just two casualties, both killed by a lone sniper. Captain John Shirley Prugh and Private Ronald Dennis McPherson were killed by single shots.49 At 1000 hours, Major B. Stockloser ventured into the town and then signalled brigade that the “Battle of Steenbergen was over.” That afternoon, the Argylls having passed out of the town to establish defensive positions facing north, the Provost Corps arrived and declared Steenbergen out of bounds to all ranks, unless on duty, “which was inclined to dim the romantic and alcoholic ardour of the men.”50

  The Algonquins remained in Welberg that day. They had suffered the most in the somewhat misnamed Battle of Steenbergen–eleven killed and twenty-one wounded. In the late afternoon, they were once again moving north, towards Dinteloord, but after carrying out a brilliant textbook crossing of the Steenborgsche Canal on a partially destroyed bridge, were ordered to hold fast in order to avoid a friendly-fire meeting between the Canadians and the 49th (West Riding) Infantry Division closing on the town from the east. That brought to an end 4 CAD’S advance towards the Maas River.

  To the east, 104th U.S. Infantry Division and 1st Polish Armoured Division closed in on the river’s mouth. The bridges at Moerdijk over which hundreds of Germans streamed in long columns were under artillery fire and soon pinched off entirely. Most of Fifteenth Army had, however, managed to escape–thus assuring that the Allies would spend a long winter watch on the Maas as they regrouped and prepared for further offensive action.

  All that remained was for the Lake Superiors and ‘C’ Squadron of the British Columbia Regiment to close the Zijpe Channel at St. Philipsland. Entering the little town bearing the peninsula’s name, the Canadians learned that several German vessels were harboured at Zijpe on the island of Schowen en Duiveland. When this information was relayed back to 4th Canadian Armoured Brigade headquarters, it prompted Brigadier Robert Moncel to come forward on November 5 to personally assess the situation. He and the Superiors’ acting commander, Major Parker, climbed a water tower near the coast and surveyed the harbour that lay just across the narrow channel. “Enemy boats could easily be seen, also marines carelessly walking around in the area. Apparently they were unaware of our presence.”51 Moncel ordered every weapon possible brought to bear on the boats.

  The troop of Shermans, commanded by Lieutenant R.H. Goepel, opened fire with a 17-pounder Firefly and two 75-millimetre tanks, while the Superiors weighed in with their six-pounder antitank guns and mortars. Although it appeared that the mortars scored two direct hits, the high breakwaters protecting the little harbour so obscured the view that it was impossible to tell what damage was inflicted. The German ships respond
ed with some desultory, badly aimed fire.

  Unsure whether they were going to have to take Zijpe by storm, a two-platoon fighting patrol commanded by ‘A’ Company’s Captain Styffe rounded up a fishing boat and a police cutter and crossed on the afternoon of November 6. Meeting no opposition, the force entered the harbour and discovered that three of the German vessels had been sunk and the fourth was listing. Lieutenant Black slipped aboard the damaged one and found its commander and three other officers dead on the deck. He returned bearing the vessel’s signal flags and Iron Cross naval pennant. The bcr’s Lieutenant Goepel was along to carry off the ship’s bell to hang in the regiment’s mess. When someone handed Styffe the ship’s log, he looked out at the slowly settling vessel, and jotted a final entry: “Gersunken by Lake Superior Regiment and British Columbia Regiment–Canadian Army.”52 And so First Canadian Army fired its last shots of the Battle of the Scheldt.

  FIELD MARSHAL BERNARD LAW MONTGOMERY wrote Lieutenant General Guy Simonds to “express to you personally and to all commanders and troops in the Canadian Army, my admiration for the way in which you have all carried out the very difficult task given to you. The operation was conducted under the most appalling conditions of ground–and water–and the advantage in these respects favoured the enemy. But in spite of great difficulties you slowly and relentlessly wore down the enemy resistance, drove him back, and captured great numbers of prisoners. It has been a fine performance, and one that could have been carried out only by first class troops. The Canadian Army is composed of troops from many different nations and countries. But the way in which you have all pulled together, and operated as one fighting machine, has been an inspiration to us all. I congratulate you personally. And I also congratulate all commanders and troops serving under your command. Please tell all your formations and units how very pleased I am with the splendid work they have done.”

  To this, Lieutenant General Harry Crerar, returning from convalescence to reclaim the army’s reins, added his congratulations on bringing the campaign to a successful conclusion. “As a result,” he wrote, “the battle reputation of First Canadian Army has never stood higher.”

  The Germans suffered heavy losses in their efforts to keep Antwerp closed. Between October 1 and November 8 when the Moerdijk bridges were closed, First Canadian Army took 41,043 prisoners. No attempt was made at the time to estimate German dead and wounded, but a Dutch historian later meticulously tabulated these figures by place of incident for the entire campaign. He determined that 4,079 Germans had been killed in action and 55 died later in hospitals. Using the standard one-to-four ratio, he then estimated that over 16,000 Germans were wounded.53 As the war scythed through their lands, leaving vast destruction in its wake, many civilians also lost their lives. A recent tabulation by a team of Belgian and Dutch historians found that, excluding fatalities resulting from the v-1 and v-2 campaign, about 2,100 to 2,200 Dutch and 700 to 750 Belgian civilians were killed during the fighting to open Antwerp. Almost all these casualities resulted from Allied artillery or aerial bombardment.54

  Victory came to First Canadian Army at a terrible price. From October 1 to November 8, it recorded 703 officers and 12,170 men killed, wounded, or missing. Of these, almost exactly half, 355 officers and 6,012 men were Canadians.55 This statistic, however, failed to include the many casualties suffered in the opening phase of the campaign, which began with the ill-fated attempt by the Algonquins to force a crossing of the Leopold Canal on September 13 and rapidly escalated to the end of the month. First Canadian Army weekly casualty estimates for September 13 through October 4–including the divisions in I British Corps–listed a total of 3,768 men killed, wounded, or missing, of which 624 were fatal.56 This, however, included 3rd Canadian Infantry Division casualties suffered clearing Boulogne and Calais, as well as all casualties during the first four days of October. While it is impossible to clarify the period of overlap, 3 CID’S casualties in opening the two Channel ports totalled 676.57 So it is not unreasonable to estimate that it cost First Canadian Army close to 15,000 casualties to open Antwerp.

  THROUGH NOVEMBER, MORE than one hundred minesweepers laboured to clear the West Scheldt of mines. It took more than sixteen passes each along the entire seventy-five-mile length to finally declare the job done after removing 267 mines. On November 28, the first eighteen-ship convoy sailed into Antwerp. Montgomery was there, and Allied Naval Commander, Admiral Bertram Ramsay, as well as many other top brass from the U.S. and British armies.

  No Canadians were invited, but happenstance put a Canadian Military Headquarters historical officer, Major W.E.C. Harrison, on the scene. “The band struck up with ‘Hearts of Oak,’ he recorded. “The ship made fast. The time was 2:30 p.m. The various national anthems were played. All stood in salute. The photographers took their pictures. The correspondents made their notes. The rain poured off the canvas stand in a steady stream. Then the ship’s master came ashore with his mate and both were introduced to [Ramsay], who gave a warm welcome… The Canadian Army was not represented… Actually, the principal participant in the ceremony was a Canadian. I refer to the ship. She had been built in a Canadian yard and bore the local and historic name of Fort Cataraqui.”58

  Antwerp was now out of bounds to military personnel not on official business, so Captain George Blackburn’s presence was made possible by his having purloined an “official pass.” The point of his mission was to purchase a supply of liquor for the 4th Canadian Field Regiment officers. It was impossible to ignore the incoming v-1 and v-2 rockets hurtling in, engaged by the anti-aircraft guns ringing the city. This day, they numbered thirty-five, and of the fifteen not shot down one landed in a busy intersection and killed eleven civilians.59Unaware of the momentous ceremony taking place down at the port, he loaded cases of booze into a jeep and began the journey along muddy roads back to the cold, misty Nijmegen salient where First Canadian Army had settled for a bleak, brutal winter in what seemed a war without end.

  [ EPILOGUE ]

  The Scheldt in Memory

  I STAND ON A ridge of the Brabant Wall south of Woensdrecht, looking out over an expanse of ground that remains dead level far to the west until a line of haze marks where land meets sea. Immediately below, stand several tidy, prosperous-looking farms. The buildings are modern, the crops varied, so that some fields have just been broken for spring planting while others are already lush with green hay. Beyond the farms, the A58 linking Antwerp and Rotterdam streams with traffic. On the highway’s western flank is a large polder. Standing next to me, Johan van Doorn points solemnly to different landmarks in the polder country, some obscured now by the highway. “Angus One, Angus Two, Angus Three,” he says. “The Black Watch came from there. They did not get further than that point there,” Johan gestures to a spot just short of the ground he has identified as Angus One.

  Black Friday, October 13, 1944—the day the Black Watch was torn asunder in beetfields awash with mud and the blood of young men dying for no good purpose. “The paratroopers were there,” Johan says. “They had an unlimited field of fire. They had the MG 42s, they had the mortars. They were completely dug in. The attack was doomed from the start.”

  Looking at the ground, even as it has changed over the decades, it’s impossible to imagine how anyone could have believed that a single understrength battalion of infantrymen advancing across such open ground in broad daylight might succeed. And, of course, the Black Watch did fail. Fifty-six men died in that polder, sixty-two others were wounded, and twenty-seven were taken prisoner.

  For two weeks, Johan and I have been meticulously visiting each and every battleground where Canadians fought a grim campaign from September to November 1944, that ended with the opening of the Scheldt estuary enabling Allied shipping to access Antwerp’s vast port. We have stood on the banks of the Leopold Canal, where the Algonquin Regiment came to sorrow in front of Moerkerke on September 13–14. Walked along the dyke to examine the concrete bunker that protected German machine guns as they inflicte
d so many casualties on the Regina Rifles when they crossed the Leopold in canvas boats on October 6. Stood on the seawall overlooking where 9th Canadian Infantry Brigade carried out its end-run amphibious landings west of the Braakman Inlet on October 9. Crouched next to another German bunker dug into a dyke on the southern flank of the Walcheren Causeway, and again been struck by how nakedly exposed the Canadians advancing towards these positions would have been to their deadly fire.

  I have visited the battlefields of Normandy, toured most of those in Italy and Sicily, and consider the terrain in which the Battle of the Scheldt was fought unparallelled in its unsuitability to military operations. Yet it was here that First Canadian Army fought its most important and costly campaign of the war. Antwerp was essential to the Allies, and ultimately the Canadians made its use possible.

  It was, of course, a campaign that need not have been fought. Had the British Second Army, after it rumbled triumphantly into Antwerp on September 4, kept going and cut the isthmus to South Beveland, a great victory would have been won at little cost. But in arguably his biggest blunder of the war, Montgomery failed to realize the opportunity. So the British paused, a German army escaped, and First Canadian Army had to save the day. The result was a terrible victory because of its cost, but a great Allied victory nonetheless.

  Inherent in that cost, and often forgotten, is the destruction wrought on the land. Most villages, towns, and farms were seriously damaged or all but destroyed by shellfire and aerial bombardment. Vast areas were deliberately flooded with seawater. While most of this flooding was conducted by the Germans to hamper and funnel Allied movement, Walcheren Island was inundated by us to equally inhibit the Germans. The deliberate sinking of this island remains a topic of debate in Zeeland and to a lesser extent in Canada and the United Kingdom. It took more than a year for the civilians to finally reseal the breaches in the dykes to stem the influx of tidal water, and then more years for the soil to be desalinated. Today, however, Walcheren is completely recovered and once again a thriving agricultural area.